


Here Comes the Sun

by tomatoblues (junhyung)



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 01:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10606449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junhyung/pseuds/tomatoblues
Summary: Yongguk has fallen head over heels for the handsome pink-haired regular, and Youngjae is only somewhat helpful.





	

There is a reason to why Yongguk likes going to art galleries so much. The works on display soothe him, the quiet calms him, and just working his mind to understand or just appreciate the piece of art displayed before him makes him feel some sort of inner peace, frees him from the fatigue of work and having to constantly interact with people, even if only for a short while.

What's happening right now is anything but.

Right now, his heart is hammering hard in his chest, threatening to break apart his ribs and tear his chest to latch onto the man before him with the attractive smile and even more attractive laughter. Yongguk tries to concentrate on piling the already neatly piled paper handles and fails terribly as the man's laughter only gets louder and more melodious as he steps closer toward the counter. He's so extra; he laughs at nearly everything, and Yongguk doesn't— _isn't_ supposed to—like people with extra ass attitude, but the man before him laughs like he's more radiant than a bright sunshine in a clear afternoon and Yongguk is so darn head over heels.

Yongguk wants so much to bolt out of here and into an art gallery and calm himself in a blanket of art works and never ever leave again. The laughter gets louder, and Yongguk is forced to look up at the patrons standing before him.

And—oh. Fuck. _Fucking hell_ , he's dyed his hair _pink_.

"Good morning," Himchan says—yes, Yongguk knows his name, don't ask how—flashing him a handsome smile that shows a neat row of white, sparkling teeth.

"Good morning," Yongguk breathes out. It sounds acceptably calm, and Yongguk allows himself a moment of pride, considering the cutest person he's ever had the honour of seeing is standing right before him and his lungs are threatening to collapse at how easily Himchan takes Yongguk's breath away. "Your usual?" he adds, trying not to glance too much at the shocking pink adorning Himchan's head and definitely not imagining how soft the locks would feel if he buries his fingers in them and strokes.

"Yes, thank you," Himchan chirps, his voice delectably low and his pink lips stretched wide in a cheerful smile. Yongguk is absolutely not thinking of how subdued the pink of his lips is as compared to the vibrant pink of his hair. He bets Himchan looks good in any shade of pink, from the darkest magenta to the lightest of pastel pink. Fuck, he'll probably look hot as hell in that oversized soft pink hoodie one of their part-timers (the tall as a lamp post one, not the one with the goofy smile and rabbit teeth) has worn to work once.

Himchan's eyes turn to crescents, and Yongguk imagines the dip of the dimples by his cheekbones before they actually form.

"And you, sir?" Yongguk asks, trying not to stammer at Himchan's smiling eyes as he turns, for the first time, to Himchan's companion for the day. Nice hair, full lips, hardly as cute as Himchan.

"One caffe macchiato, please," Himchan's friend tells him in a distinct dialect. Huh. Busan.

"Alright. One iced americano and a macchiato to go," Yongguk repeats as he keys in their order.

"Oh," Himchan exclaims, "we'll have it here, please."

Oh. Oh, no. Yongguk is pretty sure his brain is about to short-circuit because Himchan has always bought his drinks to go. Yongguk has never had to pine over Himchan from afar for more than five minutes a day because he's _never_ stayed. Now Himchan is going to freaking sit at a spot very visible from Yongguk's point of view and nurse his drink and sip at it very attractively because that's what he is, attractive as fuck.

Yongguk hopes the nervous trembling of his hand as he accepts Himchan's card isn't obvious. He's internally thankful their hands don't brush during the exchange, or he's pretty sure he'd explode into a mess of feelings and Youngjae will have to vacuum him out of the way so he can take over the register for the sake of business. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but still.

Yongguk hands back his card—Himchan's name resting at the bottom corner—and the receipt, and tells Himchan and Busan guy to please, take a seat, we'll deliver your drinks to you in a few. He doesn't stutter, because he's not clumsy enough to mess up standard protocol. He does, however, stare a whole lot too long at Himchan's deliciously thick thighs in his (thankfully) tight jeans as he sashays toward one of the empty tables for two. Yongguk isn't sure if he wants to strangle or be caged by those legs around his hip. Or maybe he can have Himchan get on all fours so Yongguk can have a glorious back view of the material of his jeans stretched taut around his beautiful, round ass as he—

"So, pupper, what's the order?" cuts Yongguk from his blissful reverie as Youngjae knocks his hip against his, peering intrusively at the monitor screen.

Yongguk frowns. "Did you just call me pupper?"

"Can't help it," Youngjae says, shrugging dismissively as he steps away and grabs for the portafilter. "I told you, the poodle hair was a bad idea." 

Yongguk considers biting back, but decides that he knows better than to bicker with a childish adult such as Youngjae. He looks away from the cheeky brat when a new set of customers walks in and wills himself to concentrate on the task at hand instead of the handsome pink-haired prince perched in one of the cozy chairs three tables down the room.

Yongguk only gets back to Youngjae five minutes later, when Youngjae hands him Himchan and his pal's coffee even if Youngjae is the one on serving duty because he's an insufferably all-knowing little bastard—to whom Yongguk is reluctantly thankful, anyway, as he accepts the offered tray of drinks.

"How do I look?" Yongguk enquires of his coworker, shifting on his feet and feeling weirdly more self-conscious of his appearance than he usually is.

Yongguk can't tell if the smile Youngjae is directing at him is flippant or good-natured. "You look like you get off to incomprehensible contemporary art on a daily basis."

"Very helpful," Yongguk deadpans.

Youngjae only snickers. Cheeky. "Your forehead spells Art Enthusiast. I bet _he_ bets you listen to vinyl records in your spare time."

"That's because I actually do that." The rascal has been to Yongguk's place for more than enough times to know it as a fact rather than something he'd observed from Yongguk's external appearance alone.

"All the more disappointing," Youngjae says in his characteristic teasing tone, although the way he brushes off non-existent dust from the collar of Yongguk's denim shirt speaks otherwise. The shirt Yongguk is wearing is rolled neatly to the elbow, a stark contrast to the laid-back long-sleeved black shirt Youngjae is wearing. "Nah, you'll do just fine. Hyung! I'm rooting for you," he tells him encouragingly, pushing Yongguk out of the counter and toward the tables. Yongguk knows Youngjae always means well.

Yongguk tries to at least not do anything that could potentially embarrass himself in front of his crush as he makes his way to the table for two that's blooming with pleasant chatter and an even more pleasant laughter. Both patrons look up when Yongguk approaches, and Yongguk wills his hands to not shake as he places their orders on the table.

At Busan guy's words that Yongguk isn't entirely paying attention to, Himchan breaks into a deep, rumbling laughter that shakes his body whole. It resonates through the cafe and sends a pleasant hum down Yongguk's spine. Yongguk watches Himchan's face transform into a handsome grin, his pink hair framing his face nicely, and clamps hard onto the tray in his hand.

Himchan takes the glass of iced americano in one hand, sliding it closer to his side of the table. "Thank you." The charming smile that he gives Yongguk makes him weak on the knees, if not forget he even has knees at all.

Yongguk can sense the judgment seeping out of Youngjae before he even steps behind the counter.

"That was very anticlimactic," he comments unnecessarily, readily accepting the tray Yongguk has shoved toward him.

"You're being ridiculous," Yongguk tells him.

Youngjae fixes him with a pointed look. "Hyung, stop being a coward and _talk_ to him."

Yongguk frowns, nudging his fake glasses up with a finger. "I did."

"And they're not business-related?" Yongguk doesn't miss the mildly exasperated but mostly amused sigh that Youngjae lets out even as a group of noisy customers walks in, demanding his full attention. "Sure."

Yongguk spends another twenty minutes taking orders and registering payments before he spots Busan guy stand up, bag slung over one shoulder, undoubtedly ready to leave. Yongguk isn't sure if the feeling in his chest is that of relief because he can finally concentrate on his job without getting distracted by a certain being so perfect he'd look no less delectable dressed in trash bags, or regret because it only means yet another frustratingly unsuccessful day of absolute zero progress in his love life.

But Himchan doesn't stand up.

Busan guy does leave after waving a brief, friendly farewell at Himchan, but Himchan stays, and Yongguk feels a jumble of emotions bubble in his chest, fighting over one another and fruitlessly trying to decide if he should go for it or cower and wait for another time.

Youngjae is always there at his rescue.

"Hyung," he presses, sneaking up behind Yongguk, hot breath too close to Yongguk's hairline to be at all comfortable. "Go. For. It."

"But—"

" _Would you like me to take that?_ " Youngjae hisses with an insistent glare that definitely does _not_ make Yongguk shudder in mild trepidation.

Yongguk wishes he knew when Youngjae started developing the mindset that paying absolutely no respect whatsoever to his hyung of four years is completely acceptable so he can put a stop to it before anything because right now, it's too late. He's a whole lot too late as Youngjae pushes him aside, wordlessly taking the register and looking pointedly at Yongguk to _get out there and fucking talk to him_.

Yongguk is only able to give him a curt retort of _language, kid_ before he's pushed out of the way and into the dining area, hands weirdly clenched in fists and feeling uncharacteristically too small in the apron that barely even reaches mid-thigh. Great. Now he can go and embarrass himself in front of his customers as he stutters a stupid confession and stumbles into the dark, miserable pit of rejection.

Yongguk doesn't know when he started walking or how he even got here without tripping and making a fool out of himself, but he's here, now, by Himchan's table, standing awkwardly with his hands folded neatly in front of him and his apron free of unwanted creases.

Himchan looks up with a questioning look on his face. Yongguk isn't much of a believer, but if anything, he's internally praying that he doesn't mess this up.

"Would you like me to take that?" he offers, motioning at Busan guy's empty cup and trying to sound as calm and professional as possible.

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Thanks," says Himchan, smiling kindly. Yongguk's heart flutters pathetically.

As he takes the cup, he notices that Himchan is almost finished with his drink. (He also catches the way Himchan's black earrings gleam under the lighting of the cafe, but that's not the point.) "Can I get you anything else?" he tries. A brief glance to the side gets him a completely unwanted view of Youngjae mouthing a _quit being chickenshit_ at him. A deep breath, then, "Perhaps one of the cakes? Our cheesecake is a customers' favourite."

"Nah, I'm trying to limit myself on the sugary goodness," he declines politely, ironically flashing Yongguk a sweet, sweet smile.

"Alright." A nod. "Uh, alright," he repeats, dumbly.

He makes to step back and move away, but that deep voice calls out, "Yongguk," and Yongguk halts in his track, turning in surprise.

Himchan wasn't supposed to know his name. Yongguk doesn't think he's ever—oh. Oh, the _name tag_. Right.

"Yes?" he answers, stepping back toward Himchan's table and gripping the saucer and the handle of the cup tightly in his fingers.

"Can I have your phone number? Or do you use a rolodex?" Himchan asks, a playful lilt to his tone.

What.

Yongguk doesn't think he's ever been rendered this speechless before. He's aware of the fact that he's gaping at the man before him, unattractively so, as his mind struggles to register those words.

"What?" He's pretty sure he has short-circuited.

Himchan lets out a soft chuckle. "No, no. It's just that you look like the type to listen to vinyl records more than your phone playlist." Yongguk searches all over his handsome face for a hint of teasing or mockery, but all he finds is genuine curiosity. "My dad has a player back home. I grew up listening to Abbey Road."

At its own accord, his body decides it the best time to make a very low, very unattractive, very clueless sound at the back of his throat. "Oh," he says, hoping to rectify his image. He spots, for the hundredth time that day, the vibrant pink on Himchan's head. "Nice hair." Great, he's just failed himself.

The chuckle that Himchan lets out is weirdly... reassuring. "Thanks," he says. He sneaks a glance at Yongguk's hair and smiles to himself, almost coyly, but doesn't say anything. Yongguk is suddenly self-conscious about the black curls resting atop his head. Maybe Youngjae was right about it being a bad idea, after all.

But that isn't going to deter Yongguk from giving this a try. "I use a phone. Yes." Fuck, did he just mess up again—no, that's alright. You're okay. You're doing good, Yongguk, come on. "It's at the counter. I can give you my number, if you want."

Someone walks into the cafe, catching Yongguk's attention, and he has a fleeting moment of _oh, no, not now, please_ before he spots Youngjae at the counter directing a welcoming smile at the customer. Yongguk lets out a relieved sigh before he can stop himself. If Himchan notices, he doesn't mention anything, just offers his phone to Yongguk.

Yongguk accepts the phone—their hands brush. Yongguk's already hoping this isn't the last time.

"Are you free this Saturday? There's a Lautrec exhibition down the block. Uh," he tries, after punching in his number and handing Himchan back his phone. Yongguk doesn't know if Himchan is into Post-Impressionism, not yet, but it doesn't hurt to try. After all, _he_ was the one who asked Yongguk for his number.

Himchan gulps down the rest of his drink. "I am, actually," he says, eyes crinkled into beautiful crescents as he grins brilliantly, a faint blush adorning his cheeks, and Yongguk has never seen anything so blinding it puts the sun to shame.  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Five years later.**

Yongguk's hand slides down from the small of his husband's back to the curve of his butt once they're inside the confines of their apartment. Lips find his in the dark and a wet tongue traces the seam before licking into his mouth, slow and languid and obscene. Yongguk reaches blindly for the light switch with one hand and traces up a clothed chest with his other, appreciating the way the smooth fabric clings to the hard pecs and stretches over the tight skin that heats with a burning desire, and flicking the lights on.

"And I thought you hated seeing me in this shirt," Himchan breathes out after they pull away, his low, deep voice sending a hint of arousal down to Yongguk's groin.

With the lights on, Yongguk takes his time raking his eyes all over Himchan's figure, appreciating the contrast of the black fabric against his soft skin and the messily styled dark brown hair, swept to the side, handsome as hell.

"I hate seeing you in this shirt _outside_ ," Yongguk corrects, hands possessive on Himchan's hip as he pulls them both inside, his body pressed to Himchan's front and Himchan's breath fanning heat against his cheeks as he guides them both toward the posh sofa in the living room.

Himchan settles down first, and scoots closer when Yongguk follows, curling against Yongguk's chest and straddling Yongguk's lap with his thick, strong legs. "Why?" he asks, teasing.

Yongguk's arms envelope Himchan immediately. "Because then I wouldn't be able to do anything about it. But here, right now," he whispers into Himchan's hair, feeling the smile grow on Himchan's face from where it's pressed against the crook of Yongguk's neck, "it's my second favourite thing on you."

Himchan giggles, and it's both melodious and enticing. "What's the first?" Yongguk opens his mouth to answer, but Himchan stops him with a finger on his mouth, turning so he can get a good look of Yongguk's face. "Let me guess. _Nothing_?"

Looking down at Himchan's lovely, sparkling eyes and the playfully quirked right brow on his perfect face, Yongguk knows he's never felt so fond of anyone else. "Nope."

The pout on Himchan's face is something that a lot of their friends find annoying, but all Yongguk can think of is _irresistible_. "What is it?"

"Your pink hair," Yongguk says, truthfully.

Himchan fixes him with a look. "Really."

Yongguk hums in affirmation, enjoying the heat that Himchan's body radiates, so closely pressed against his like this. "It was also when I had my worst hair. Then again, you asked for my number the day I had that horrible hairstyle, so was it really that bad?" Yongguk asks, more to himself.

Himchan frowns in mild confusion. "What bad hairstyle?"

"You know, the poodle hair," Yongguk grumbles embarrassedly.

The frown on Himchan's face grows, before it softens and stretches into a wide grin, like realisation has dawn in him. Yongguk likes watching the process of a smile forming on Himchan's face because he gets to see the deepening of the dimples under his eyes up-close, adorning his cheekbones so beautifully. "No, no," he says, shifting so he can straddle Yongguk properly, his plush butt on Yongguk's lap and his arms around Yongguk's shoulders. It's a very snug position. "I—Yongguk, you _don't_ know, do you?"

It's Yongguk's turn to be perplexed. "Don't know what?"

"Well," Himchan says, voice deep and soft and Yongguk feels so lucky to be able to wake up to an even hoarser version of it every morning. "My decision to dye my hair that crazy shade of pink was kind of _entirely_ because I saw you perm your hair the week before. Just, you know, for the sake of it. I thought you looked drop-dead gorgeous," he confesses, leaning down to rest his forehead against Yongguk's and giggling softly.

Oh. _Oh_. And all this time, he thought... "Oh, god, I regretted perming my hair because I thought you thought it looked horrible." His hands come up to rest on Himchan's hip, resting on the familiar curve of his waist.

"Now you know," he whispers into one corner of Yongguk's mouth, pressing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

Yongguk leans in to kiss Himchan fully on the mouth, and he can feel Himchan smile into the kiss, the stretch of his lips and the neat row of his teeth and the sound that rumbles deep in his chest to blossom into a bright, bright laughter. They kiss for a long time, and somewhere along the way to the bedroom, they halt only long enough to set the record player. Helen Merrill and Clifford Brown's What's New fills the apartment as Yongguk pushes Himchan into the mattress and kisses him deep, kisses him on the mouth and the neck and the dip of his collarbone, and then every other nooks he can reach.

Yongguk trails feathery kisses down Himchan's torso, and it tickles, Yongguk knows—so sensitive there—only does it to hear the soft, airy chuckle that Himchan lets out. When Yongguk crawls back up to look him in the eyes, Himchan is grinning, the pink, plush lips stretched into a wide, brilliant smile, and Yongguk is proud to say, as he feels a familiar, cozy warmth spread in his chest, that it's the brightest thing he's ever seen, and he gets to keep it all to himself.  
  
  
  
**To: Yoo Brat**  
I told you, the poodle hair was a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this](http://dogs-or-salmonsnakes.tumblr.com/post/159307463394/itsbap-bouquet-do-not-edit-or-remove-logo). title from the beatles song bc kim himchan is as blinding as the sun and yongguk is smitten af. i swear this wasn't supposed to be this long at all what the heck.


End file.
